


Wendigos and Slurpees

by Half_Written_Poem



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Kinda, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, bitch ass wendigo, cas is whiny bitch baby who just wants dean to stop being a little shit and take care of himself, dean likes blue slurpies, lmao dean has no self control, making out in a car, sam wants to strangle them both, they make out, this was fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 11:55:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15796005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_Written_Poem/pseuds/Half_Written_Poem
Summary: One little case goes wrong and Dean now has to make it up to his whiny boyfriend.





	Wendigos and Slurpees

“Nothing like a good, old-fashioned, salt and burn case. Amiright? Ya’ find the thing and ya’ burn the thing.” Dean commented over the music. He drummed his fingers along the leather of the Impala’s steering wheel in time with an old AC/DC song. “No living in the friggin library or making deals with some fancy demon! Or dealing with archangels or gods or risking your life over something stupid!”

Castiel rolled his eyes from the passenger seat before reaching towards the radio. He turned the volume knob until he felt the heavy bass in his angelic bones and tuned out his dim-witted hunter. Because the thing is, this ‘simple salt and burn’ wasn’t a simple salt and burn. Cas tagged along to get some fresh air, not to watch Dean get beaten half to death by a wendigo. But, the hunter, as gorgeous as he may be, didn’t always use his brain at appropriate times. He saw the slightest chance at a case and bolted for the keys to the Impala.

_They followed the sheriff to the crime scene that lay on the skirts of a camping ground. Then pulled out their badges and IDs as they poked and prodded for any kind of 'supernatural’ signs. Talking with the victim’s family was always a bit more of a delicate procedure. It left Dean to sweet talk some more information out of the grieving people. At the back of his mind, Cas knew it wasn’t a spirit trapped in the veil trying to make it’s way to heaven. Dean didn’t even fathom the idea that it could be anything else. That was until he was six feet deep in the ground and drenched in sweat from digging.  
_

_A whining angel with a cheap flashlight in his hand was the only thing illuminating the night. leaving them both unaware, the wendigo crept around them at inhuman speeds and mimicked screams of terror that had Dean rushing in on pure instinct to help. Castiel flew from the half-assed hole in the ground to where the hunter’s heavy footfalls ceased. He held the flashlight up with a soft “Dean?”, inspecting his being for wounds. In a flash, the creature ran by. It knocked the light from Cas’ hand in his precautions and left Dean a nasty, dripping gash across his jaw._  
Then another below his ribs.  
And another down the length of his thigh.  
Releasing a blood-curdling shriek, the wendigo knocked Dean flat on his ass before he had a chance to process the abrasions. Or reach for the gun tucked into his belt.  


_“Cas! Cas- a little fucking help here!”_  
A sharp 'thwack’ followed by an unpleasant pop, left Dean with a, now, dislocated shoulder. struggling in the grasps of the Wendigo. Frantically, he dug his fingers at the weak roots of the grass, now slick with early morning dew and blood. Dean fell victim to the starved creature.  


_“Dean!” Castiel spread his wings and flew to the Wendigo. With a single blow to its being, the bony creature faltered; shrieking and shriveling up on itself with unfiltered celestial power. Falling to the ground, Dean emitted a heavy and pained groan. Blood stained his face, and the better part of his clothes, in such a way that one would think he committed first-degree murder. Castiel opened his mouth-_

“C'mon Cas-” Dean didn’t bother with turning the music down, just raised his voice to cut through the angel’s agitated recollections. “Baby-” He drawled out and leaned over the center seat only to receive a well-deserved flick to the forehead.

  
“Eyes on the road, idiot.” Cas seldom grumbled but not before turning the music up just a tad louder.

Dean took the hint.

They drove in almost silence save for Castiel’s quiet humming and Dean’s not so singing.  
Eventually, Dean stopped for gas a little ways from the bunker. It was the nearest 'gas-n-sip’ to their home in the middle of fucking nowhere. Shutting off the engine, the freckle-faced hunter turned to Castiel with an expectant look in his forest green eyes.

Cas could easily get lost in them if the other wasn’t such a fucking dumbass.

“Are you just going stare at me or are you going to get gas? If not I could always just take us back to the bunker mys-”

“No. Nope. Not necessary.” Dean interrupted. “I am getting gas, snacks, and then we’re going to talk.” doing just that, the hunter sauntered into the quaint little store and exited within two minutes. Two cups full of something were in his hands and a receipt held between his teeth. Opening the door and placing the cups in the cup holder, still being ignored, he popped the cap on the tank and let it fill. “What’s up? Why are you so.? Quiet... And... I don't know, angry?”

Cas tilted his head with grace and shot his boyfriend one of many bitch faces he’d mastered over the years. “I wonder what could’ve given it away.” he huffed and crossed his arms. The sleeves of his coat riding up to give him that 'I could smite you with a snap of my fingers why aren’t you scared of me’ vibe. “Fucking dumbass... You’re always rushing into things! You said this was a simple 'salt and burn’, Dean! You almost died!”

“That happens a lot!” Noting the bright, blue-white flare in Castiel’s eyes, Dean took that as a smack to the face. He most definitely did not choose his words correctly.

“You make things so needlessly complicated sometimes, Dean. You and you’re selfless desire to help everyone! All you had was your gun and a damn flashlight! Against a wendigo!” he huffed out a humorless laugh. “That’s like, I don’t know, trying to kill Lucifer with a toothpick! You want to die so bad? Might as well give me the damn honor! At least I won't have to freak out every time you don’t answer your phone when you’re away, because I’ll know what happened to you!” There was still a threatening blue-white flare in his eyes, but it began to simmer away as the angel picked up his designated red Slurpee and angrily popped the straw in his mouth.

Dean arched a brow in response to Castiel’s outburst, this meaning he had to put actual thought into choosing his words. Rather than letting them fall from his tongue like a dog.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Dean repeated while turning in his seat and resting a hand on Castiel’s thigh. The car was still off, and parked at the same pump it was when they pulled in nearly ten minutes ago. “I am. I can see how upset you are and I’m sorry. I just wanted to, ya’ know, be out on the field again, being all cooped up in the bunker twenty-four-seven just… Reading… It’s giving me cabin fever.” Dean shrugged his little shrug and looked up at Castiel’s eyes, narrowed and accusing.

“It’s going to take more than a little apology and some shitty reference to a shitty horror movie to gain my forgiveness.” Cas took another sip from his beverage, letting the artificial cherry flavored molecules coat his tongue. It soon became a favorite after his brief period of living a human life. Dean took notice.

“The movie isn’t the greatest baby, but it’s not shitty.”

“You’re really not helping yourself right now.” Castiel flipped through the out of date cassette tape collection popping in Led Zeppelin’s 'Houses of the Holy’. “The best thing you’ve got going for you right now is this.” He pointed at the cup while speaking around its straw.

The hunter sighed and bit his tongue, coaxing whatever else threatened to reach his lips back down before starting the Impala. Its engine roared to life with a satisfying purr. Then they were off, back on route to the bunker.

Upon arrival, Castiel had downed his sugary drink alongside Dean in a silence that in no way sat correctly between them. Dean parked Baby in the garage and slid his arm across the back of Cas’ seat.  
The scene set before them was classy and cliche and everything Dean loved; sliding an arm around someone’s shoulders and staring into each other's eyes for a couple long seconds then leaning in for a kiss at an unbearably slow pace. It was almost torturous.

Castiel’s eyes flickered between his arm and his lips. “Dean-”

  
“Just shut up.” The entire set up was ditched as he crashed his mouth against Cas’ in a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. The angel wasn’t sure if it was the sugary drink in his belly on Dean’s lips that had him craving for more. Dean’s rough and calloused hand held the side of Castiel’s face and pulled him closer while moving himself across the front bench of the Impala. Cas let out a deep groan and the noise met with a smug little smirk from the blond.

Castiel angled his head to capture the kiss fully and muffled a non-threatening 'Don’t tell me what to do’ into Dean’s mouth. He reached up, grasping at Dean’s wrist to keep it at his jaw and outstretched his other for the collar of the tight, black shirt hugging his boyfriend’s torso. Both actions were met with compliance. Dean brushed his thumb over the angel’s cheek and letting it glide back till he gripped at the short dark hair at the base of Castiel’s skull. The kiss was sudden and harsh and cramped until it wasn’t. If anything, Cas was disappointed at the swift stop and it must’ve shown on his face because the next thing to happen was Dean’s silent chuckle while situating himself in Cas’ lap with his knees on either side of his waist.

Dean’s position looked mildly uncomfortable ducked down and hunched so he didn’t hit his head on the roof of the Impala, but the new round of kisses said otherwise. Dean kissed him again. And again. And again, soft kisses making Cas feel high. Dean’s tongue traced along the bottom of his lip, a new world of warmth flooded his system that had him leaning in for more and slipping his hand down from Dean’s wrist to press the pads of his fingers into the hunter’s hip.

Both of Dean’s hands gripped at Cas’ unruly hair, tugging a fist full of it at the base of his skull in a way that radiated control, to guide the angel’s lips back up to his own. Castiel’s hands hovered gingerly over Dean’s body, grasping at his shoulders and easing the flannel off; it barely fell off his shoulders, thanks to Dean’s refusal to move his hands from Castiel’s hair. He continued to blindly work at the flannel, persistent and needy.  
“Dean,” Cas rasped, guiding his mouth to Dean’s jaw and nosing at his cheek, “flannel. Off. Now.”

With Dean’s death vice gone from his hair, Cas mouthed his way down the collum of Dean’s throat, hardly assisting in helping Dean with the flannel anymore, instead preoccupied with getting his hands under the tight black shirt hugging him. Wanting to dig his palms into warm, familiar marred skin. When Cas kissed under the hunter’s jaw a, rare but welcomed, giggle bubbled up past Dean’s tingling lips.

“Cas, Cas, CasCasCas- baby stop.,” Dean whined, trying half-heartedly redirect the angel’s mouth back to his own before another embarrassing giggle tumbled out.

“Why? Is something wrong?” He raked his fingers through Castiel’s hair then tugged at the smugness in his voice.

“N- yes. I mean no, but stop.. It... It tickles and you know that.” Cas hummed, around an 'I know’ and continued to leave soft kisses around Dean’s jaw. He lifted his lips back to Dean’s, dragging his tongue across the seam with a suggestive hum from the back of his throat. Dean parted his lips and their tongues meet with fluidity and Dean can taste the sweet syrupy flavor that still lingered in Castiel’s mouth.  
When they part, there's a thin string of saliva collecting at their lips, snapping back down the curve of Dean’s chin from his slightest movement. Dean blurts a pleased “That's hot.” and Castiel responds with a wolfish grin that could mean so many things. With experienced hands and clear motives, the hunter tucked his fingers under the collar of Cas’ ridiculous coat, pushing it past his shoulders and down his arms in an attempt to rid him of it entirely.

“Your mouth is purple.”

Dean stopped his work with the jacket and fists the angel’s tie, yanking it so their noses bump. “So ’s yours.” There's a grin on Dean’s mouth, lips hued a light violet color while his tongue is undoubtedly much more vivid in shade. Thumbing the knot in the tie, Dean loosening the thing while Cas tried his best to do the same.  
In time, both Dean’s flannel and the trenchcoat lay on the floor of the Impala in a heap. The black undershirt was next on the list. Dean’s hands rested against the roof of his car while Cas tugged the shirt up with dreadfully slow hands.

_____“I stay out too late, got nothin’ in my brain-”_ _ _ _ _

Dean and Castiel both jumped back at the abrupt, but ever welcomed (in Dean’s opinion), song by Taylor.

_______“That’s what people say, mmm hmm,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

Staggering in the cramped space, the eldest Winchester pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. Leaving it to rest haphazardly on the side of the bench unoccupied, taking to look around for his phone. “Gahh… Shut up!"

________"That’s what people say, mmm hmm. I go on too many dates, but I can’t make 'em stay”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Castiel shamelessly laughed at his boyfriend’s struggles before reaching around and pulling the device from one of the back pockets of Dean’s unbuckled pants. Then went back for seconds and gripped firmly at his ass through the fabric.

“Shut up, asshat.” Dean glared and took the phone.

_________“At least that’s what people s-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Sammy. Man. Bad timing, whats up?”  
Castiel nuzzled his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. The blond instinctively wrapped his free hand around Cas’ shoulders, stroking his hair. He could hear Sam on the other end of the call sounding uneasy.

___________“What do you mean bad time? You haven’t answered any of my texts.”___________ Dean pulled the phone from his ear, checking to see that there was indeed an inbox full of messages from his brother. All of which were unanswered and unread. Cas gave another squeeze through the jeans.

“Whoops."

He could practicality hear Sam’s bitch face #4 accompanied by eyeroll #16.

_____________"I mean, I know Cas is with you but I texted you like six times and I tried calling Cas, because your 'salt and burn’ case wasn’t a ghost. You just rushed out and I haven’t heard from you in two days man.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The angel shifted his attention from the phone call to the open opportunity to hear Dean Winchester’s once in a lifetime giggle. Again. He started at the crook of his neck, lax and, brushing his lips faintly against Dean’s sensitive, love-bitten skin.  
“Everything’s fine. Went looking for a -Cas, I’m on the phone- haunting ended up with a dead wendigo..”

“Sorry, didn’t notice.” Castiel’s fingers caressed a few small scars etched into his skin and continued his pursuit, mouthing up and under his jaw.

_“Whatever Dean. You said you were going to be back at like noon. And for you, that means ten. Dean, it’s four in the afternoon, did you and Cas stop on the side of the road to bang in the Impala and forget that we’re trying to find leads on the demon tablet?”_

Dean swatted at Castiel’s shoulder while he gnawed at his lip. He is a warrior. He has spent years hunting monsters, killing them, dealing with demons and risking his life. There’s no way some handsy angel is going to make him giggle.

Again.

“I'm hanging up Sam. You’re a big boy. You’ll be fine.” Dean hit the end call button before Sam had even the slightest chance to argue then dropped his phone onto the pile of discarded layers on the floor. “You are unbelievable,” he grumbled with a tug to Castiel’s hair. “Handsy and annoying and unbelievable. C'mon.”  
Stepping from the Impala, the two men were stiff from being confined and utterly disheveled. Dean hadn’t even gotten his shirt back on yet and Cas looked like he just stepped out of a bad porno. Neither bothered with completely redressing. The flannel and trenchcoat were left in the car for future purposes while Dean pulled the undershirt back on.

“I forgive you.”

Dean’s brows furrowed until it clicked that he was originally intending to gain Castiel’s forgiveness. “All it took was a kiss?”

“No, actually. Why hold a grudge over something like that? You are a Winchester. It’s what you do. And, well, if I can’t live with that, then why should I hold it against you when I’m the one incapable of accept- yea. Pretty much. You’re good at it. It’s hard to be angry even though you’re still a dumbass.”

“Romantic.” was all Dean said as they entered the main part of the bunker, finding the better part of their family in the war room. Kevin sat at one end of the table, working his prophet magic on the Angel Tablet, Sam flipping through one of four large open books opposite to him, and Charlie at her laptop next to Kevin, murmuring something that couldn’t be heard by Dean. Cas grabbed his hand and laced their fingers.

“About damn time.” Sam bitched, flipping to the next page of his book, likely skimming through the pages and looking for some keywords to catch his eye. He never looked up.

“Ah quit your-”

Kevin interrupted with an obvious, “Your mouths are purple.”

“Yes, they are. I had a red Slurpee.” Cas shrugged and let go of Dean’s hand to go sit at the table, swiping away a closed book from one of Sam’s piles. Dean sauntered through the room with confidence towards the kitchen.

“I had a blue one.”

Sam wasn’t amused.


End file.
